Which when _Canute_ did heare, his Danish force

He mustred vp, and I inspir’d by fame,

Troopt vp my Kentish friends, both foot and horse,

With whom deckt in braue armes and skill’d in frame

Of varied fight, vnto _Canute_ I came,

With whom to Denmarke I design’d did goe,

Conductor of the English ’gainst the foe.

8.

The seas we launcht, but long we had not wau’d,

Vpon the deepe, when all our ships did scatter,

Proud Nereus fom’d, the sea lookt blacke and rau’d,

The billowes rude rouz’d into hils of water,

Cuffe after cuffe the earth’s greene bankes did batter,

Which with their force our scattered nauie bore

In great distresse about the Norway shore.

9.

Tost to and fro, the storme at length ore-blowen,

We did arriue vpon the Danish coast,

Where, in the field the Vandale dreadlesse growen,

Their valours to auouch, did vaunt and boast

Of spoiles and captiues in their conquering host,

’Twixt whom and vs the fight had then begun,

Had night, to part the fray, not twixt vs run.

10.

The night, that giues each deathlesse creature rest,

In chaines of darknesse all the earth did bind,

And in our tents, each one as seem’d him best,

Did passe the time: but in my labouring mind

Nor rest, nor sleepe could entertainment find,

Care kept me waking, how I best might bring

My selfe in credit with _Canute_ the king.

11.

The time, I thought, did fit occasion yeeld,

The foes with fond neglect of vs at shore

Did sleepe secure, dispread about the field,

Their guard slight kept, their men were wearied sore

With hunting after spoile the day before,

Whom to _Canute_ vnknowne could we confound,

Our names I thought, would euer be renown’d.

12.

These thoughts, but newly borne in my great mind,

By secret messengers I did conuent,

The English chiefetaines all, whom I did find

In heart so well inclin’d, that all were bent

With readie hands to strengthen my intent,

And in each point their minds to mine did frame

For this affaire, all thirsting after fame.

13.

Our English quarter, which did vtmost lie,

We vndescri’d, drew forth, and on our way

With silence we did passe, the windes blew high,

And night her darksome wings did wide display,

Lest th’aduerse scout our purpose might bewray:

So forth we went, and gain’d with good euent,

The drowsie Vandale’s vtmost regiment.

14.

The outward watch, and courts of guard being slaine,

Through all their rankes by slaughter making way,

We did at length their fatall tents attaine,

In which, as in neglect they sleeping lay,

Without respect all went the common way,

That leads to death, as well the noble kind

As the ignoble, were in death confin’d.

15.

Then was th’alarum giuen, and euery where

The foes with fearefull shouts did pierce the skie,

Heere one affrighted silent stands, and there

Another dreading death doth mercie crie,

Heere one cries stand, another there bids flie:

In euery place death’s terrour did abound,

And all on heapes our foes we did confound.

16.

At length, troopt vp in haste the foes made head,

Twixt whom and vs ensu’d a deadly fight,

Grim death in darknesse hid, did bring more dread

With his approch, the foes, through sable night,

Their friends from foes could not discerne aright,

In which distresse vnable long to shield

Their campe from spoile, they fled and left the field.

17.

Darknesse suborn’d their flight, and did preuent

Our purpos’d pursuit for th’intended chase,

Their campe laid waste, we found in euery tent

Rich spoile and captiues, men of no meane place,

With more renowne our deed of worth to grace,

Of which _Canute_ our king did nothing know,

Vntill the morning’s light our deeds did show.

18.

For when in east Aurora did appeare,

_Canute_ intending to begin the fight,

When he of our supposed flight did heare,

In rage he vow’d reuenge for such despight,

And forth in furie marcht: but when in sight

The Vandale’s campe appear’d despoil’d with fire,

And all their host dispers’d, he gan admire.

19.

The Danes, in troopes all gathered, stood amaz’d

To see through what great dangers we had run,

Vpon the slaughtered Vandales wounds they gaz’d,

Vpon the captiues and the rich spoiles wonne,

Applauding all with praise, what we had done,

The king himselfe, in heaping praise on praise,

The worth of this our deed on high did raise.

20.

The good successe of this high conquest won,

My name in credit with the Dane did bring:

And to encrease this honor new begun

In th’horrid warre betwixt the Norway king

And prince _Canute_, of which the world did ring,

I by my deeds vpon the Norway coast,

Did saue _Canutus_ and his fainting host.

21.

When _Olauus_ and _Vlfe_ those brothers stout,

With their Norwegians in a dangerous fight,

Against _Canute_ successefully had fought,

I with my English souldiers in his sight

Regain’d againe, what he had lost by flight,

And forc’d proud _Olauus_ to flie the field,

Who to our king his crowne did after yeeld.

22.

Grac’d in all warre affaires without mischance,

With king _Canute_ in such great grace I came,

That he, my name and fortunes to aduance,

His sister gaue to me for wife, whose name

Hight _Thira_ faire, a ladie of great fame,

Whom I with earnest suite did often proue,

And in the end obtain’d her for my loue.

23.

Thus with auspitious lookes the heau’ns beheld,

The new borne infant of my towring state,

Which growing vp, with proud ambition swell’d,

Flattering it selfe with hope of happier fate,

Which to obtaine I long did lie in wait,

And left at length true honor’s path to tred,

To trace the footing which ambition led.

24.

When death did end _Canutus’_ life and raigne,

I standing in contention, t’whom the right

Of England’s vnswai’d empire should remaine,

_Canute’s_ base sonne, ambitious _Harrold_ hight,

Did step into the throne in my despight,

Being backt by diuers peeres, that sought to clime

By his support in this new change of time.

25.

’Gainst whom I stood with fained loyaltie

To those two princes, sonnes of _Egelred_,

The true borne heires to England’s emperie:

In which affaire, had fortune false not fled

And turn’d her backe, the crowne had grac’d my hed:

For had I gain’d the garland in their name,

Neither of them should haue enioy’d the same.

26.

But al-seeing heau’n, that did my drift perceiue,

To take effect would not permit the same,

Those strong built holds I was constrain’d to leaue,

In which defiance I did first proclame,

Against the bastard in prince _Alfred’s_ name:

Wherefore my oath I vnto _Harrold_ past,

To be true liegeman, while my life did last.

27.

Yet did not this my mounting thoughts beat downe,

Nor quell the pride of my aspiring mind,

My heart still aim’d at England’s royall crowne,

Aspiring hope did th’eies of reason blind,

To all impietie I was inclin’d,

Of which prince _Alfred_, whom would I had neuer

Betray’d to death, a Mirrour liues for euer.

28.

The maner of whose death I shame to tell,

Such was the cruell torment of the same,

And such the noble vertues, that did dwell

In th’heart of that sweet prince, whose liuing name

To all posteritie records my shame,

The more his vertues were, whose blood I spilt,

Remorselesse wretch, the greater was my guilt.

29.

Curst be the gracelesse heart’s vnswayed pride,

Which tempted me to act so foule a deed,

Why as at first did not faire vertue guide

My steps in path of praise? why in her steed,

All grace abolisht, did foule vice succeed?

With state and greatnesse, vertue seldome dwels,

State fosters pride, pride all good grace expels.

30.

After the murder of this guiltlesse man,

Long time I flourisht with prosperitie,

In slothfull _Harrold’s_ daies my house began

With many valiant sonnes to multiplie,

Who after came to great authoritie,

Of whom hereafter I intend to tell,

Hearken meane while what vnto me befell.

31.

Hearken ye glory-thirsting men, and heare

Iudgement of wreakful wrath powr’d downe by Ioue

On me, and on my house, that all may feare,

Aspiring honor’s height those plots to proue,

To which vaine pride the heart doth often moue,

Of which, both I, and all my progenie,

May Mirrours be to all posteritie.

32.

When _Harrold_ had, the tearme of three yeares space,

Vpon the English throne borne supreame sway,

He dying left a name of foule disgrace,

T’obtaine true fame, he neuer gaue th’assay,

His idle life in sloth did fleet away:

In houres of ease, who euer spends his daies

To future time, leaues seldome any praise.

33.

Vpon the throne, his brother did succeed

Prince _Hardiknute_, _Canutus’_ lawfull sonne,

Whom I did feare, lest for my bloodie deed

By his edict, I should to death be done,

Which I in lawfull triall could not shun,

To murdred _Alfred_ he was borne halfe brother,

Got by _Canute_ on _Emma_ his queene mother.

34.

Yet I being right expert in euery thing,

Which did pertaine to subtile policie,

Both tooke a solemne oth before the king,

That I from guilt of _Alfred’s_ blood was free,

With which his friends had often charged mee:

And also, that mine oth might fauour finde,

With golden gifts I did corrupt his minde.

35.

If that the powre of gold doe conquer kings,

Corrupts the noble, and deceaues the wise,

Subdues the valiant: yea, the brother brings

To sell his brother’s blood for golden prize,

Wherewith to glut his greedie auarice:

No maruell then, if that my gold did bring

This fained oth in credit with the king.

36.

Of _Hardiknute_ this fauour I did finde,

I liu’d in grace and great felicitie,

To me the rule of all things hee resign’d,

He onely kept his kinglie dignitie,

All things were swaid by my authoritie:

But after two yeares space, by suddaine death

In midst of mirth, he lost his vitall breath.

37.

Being at a feast vpon a solemne day,

At Lambeth house, within the bishop’s place,

With cup in hand his life did fleet away,

To ground he fell and did cold death imbrace,

Leauing few friends to waile his woefull case:

In loue of drinke he liu’d, in drinke he dide:

Such drunken death oft drunkards doe betide.

38.

Prince _Edward_, _Alfred’s_ brother, he being dead,

Was left the lawfull heire vnto the crowne,

Which I did claime as due from _Edgelred_,

And on his seeming foes I seem’d to frowne,

That sought with violent hands to pluck him downe:

For well I did perceaue, he being king,

To good effect my purpose I should bring.

39.

Zealous he was, and did so much delight

In sacred precepts of pure sanctitie,

That farre more fit he seem’d in all men’s sight,

To liue religious in a friarie,

Then sway the sceptor of a monarchie:

Yet seing the right did vnto him pertaine,

He was permitted ouer vs to reigne.

40.

Vpon whose minde more pliable to yeeld

To rule of others, then to rule alone,

The hope of future fortune I did build,

And after him, vnknowne to anie one,

I laid my plot to step into the throne:

For vnto him my daughter I did wed,

Twixt whom I knew would be a barren bed.

41.

Although the choycest eye could not select

A virgin with more sweets of beautie fild:

Yet for in hart he iustlie did suspect

His brother _Alfred’s_ blood by me was spild,

Her beautie with delight he nere beheld,

My dreaded power, which might haue dangerous beene

To his estate, was cause he made her queene.

42.

Whereby in future time my valiant sonne,

My _Harrold_ stout a title did pretend

Vnto the crowne, who by his valor wonne

High credit with the king, who in the end

So far to him his fauour did extend,

That after his decease, he did ordaine

The crowne and kingdome should to him remaine.

43.

Thus did I sit in top of fortune’s wheele,

Knit to the royall blood of England’s crowne,

Till death did strike, mischance I nere did feele,

Fortune at my successe did neuer frowne,

Who in the hight of pride pluckes manie downe:

Dreadlesse I liu’d, being dreaded still of all,

Fearing no lucklesse chance, that might befall.

44.

Beneath the sway of my securefull power

I from the king my guilt did long conceale

Of _Alfred’s_ death, vntill that fatall houre,

When fate appointed did my soule appeale,

And in my death my bloodie deed reueale:

Blood for due vengeance neuer calls in vaine,

Heau’n will reuenge, when we remisse remaine.

45.

Once sitting at the table with the king,

My son, whose office was the cup to beare,

By chance did stumble, as he did it bring,

And lightlie did himself againe vpreare,

At which by me these speeches spoken were:

“Ha, ha, my liege,” said I, “see how one brother

In time of need can well sustaine the other.”

46.

To which the king return’d this sterne replie

With browes contract, signes of his angrie minde,

“Most true it is,” said he, “and so should I

My louing brother _Alfred_ liuing finde

To helpe me now, but for thy self vnkinde.”

With which neere toucht: yet all distrust to shun,

Bread streight I took, and thus my oth begun.

47.

“This bread,” quoth I, “I neuer wish to take

Downe through this throat into my hollow chest,

But choaking me, God grant, that it may make

My death a scandall, to my soule vnblest,

Which heav’n henceforth for euer may detest,

If I your brother _Alfred_ did betray,

Or gaue consent to take his life away.”

48.

No sooner had I spoke, and taken bread,

But of the heauens, my wish I did obtaine,

Vnto the ground I instantlie fell dead,

While yet the bread did in my throate remaine,

Through which to passe, the breath did striue in vaine:

In death did heau’n detect my villanie,

In death did vengeance iustlie seise on mee.

49.

Which in my suddaine downefall tooke not end,

This dreadfull iudgement could not satisfie

The wrath of righteous Ioue, who did intend

The extirpation of my progenie,

In the reuenge of _Alfred’s_ tragedie,

With seu’n sonnes done to death, all valiant men,

My name did vade, as it had neuer ben.

50.

My eldest sonne, hight _Swaine_, in his rash moode

With rage incen’st, with his vnhappie hand,

Did beast-like spill his vncle _Byorn’s_ blood,

For which a pilgrim to the holie land

He was inioyn’d by churche’s strict command:

Where rouing Saracens vpon the way,

With murther did his vncle’s death repay.

51.

The next was _Harrold_, who in _Edward’s_ reigne,

After my death grew famous in this land,

Manie great victories he did obtaine

Against the Welsh, who with rebellious hand

Against the king themselues did proudlie band:

For which in name and fame he was renown’d,

And by the king with manie merits crown’d.

52.

But the third brother did thereat enuie,

_Tostie_ by name, a man of mickle pride,

Which when his brother _Harrold_ did espie,

His angrie hart did swell, and rage did guide

That reason, which doth man and beast diuide:

For on a time inrag’d with anger’s sting,

They fell at ods in presence of the king.

53.

Where _Harrold_ caught young _Tostie_ by the haire,

And with his fist did smite him on the face:

But by well-wishing friends they parted were:

Yet _Tostie_ in his minde for such disgrace,

Did vowe reuenge in more conuenient place,

And forthwith from the court with angrie looke,

To _Harrold’s_ house his readie way he tooke.

54.

Where when hee came, the seruants hee did finde

Preparing all things for the king’s repaire,

On whom he wreak’d the vengeance of his minde:

For not a man his wrathfull sword did spare,

In his reuenge they all alike did share:

Yet could not this his furie’s heat asswage,

Their limmes he hew’d in peeces in his rage.

55.

Which he amongst the hogsheads of pure wine,

Vessels of ale and cydar did bestow,

And in the lomes of meath, and tubs of brine,

And other sorts of liquor he did throw

Heads, legs, and armes, whence yet warme blood did flow:

Then sent he word, that at his brother’s house

The king should find good store of poudered sowce.

56.

For which offence, he was exilde the land,

And _Harrold_ after _Edward_ as his right

The crowne did claime, ’gainst whom no peere did stand:

Yet _Tostie_ did the Norway king excite,

In battaile gainst his brother for to fight,

In which by _Harrold_ vpon Stamford plaine,

Both _Tostie_ and the Norway king were slaine.

57.

Stout _Harrold_ in the field his death’s wound tooke,

With his two bretheren _Girth_ and _Leowin_,

At Battaile abbey ’gainst the Norman duke:

For in ist iudgement then did heau’n begin

To plague this land for my detested sinne,

Which from that time twice thirtie yeares and foure,

With Norman bondage was oppressed sore.

58.

Thus by decree of fate without remorse

By the keene sword fiue sonnes to death’s doome past,

The sixt in riding on a head-strong horse

Into the siluer Thames dark deepe was cast,

In which his soule the pangs of death did taste:

The seuenth and last was in close prison kept,

Vntill in death the conquering Norman slept.

59.

Yet heere heau’ns heauie iudgement did not end,

My wretched mother, though forworne and old,

Vntimely fell, who, while she liu’d, did send

Yong dames to Denmarke, where for gaine of gold,

Their virgin beauties vnto lust were sold,

For which offence, to all the world a wonder,

She stricken was from heau’n by horrid thunder.

60.

And that on earth, my shame might neuer die,

The sea’s proud waues haue ouerrun my lands,

Which did of yore by Sandwich hauen lie,

Where now bound vp in Neptune’s watrie bands,

They at this day are called _Godwin_ sands,

And since are made of pasture-springing-ground,

A dangerous gulfe the sea-man to confound.

61.

Thus for prince _Alfred’s_ blood, which I did shed,

Ioue in the tempest of his wrathfull mood,

Powr’d downe his wracke vpon my wretched hed:

Of all foule ils most aduerse vnto good,

Vengeance pursues the blushing sinne of blood,

Blood out of earth with cries importunes heau’n

To grant reuenge, vntill reuenge be giuen.

62.

Vnto a sinfull wight, though time do seeme

With wings of waste his shame away to wipe,

Although the king of heau’n secure he deeme:

Yet when his sore of sinne is waxen ripe,

Of his smart scourge he feeles the bitter stripe,

The truth whereof, that I may testifie,

Amongst thy Mirrours place my tragedie.

THE LIFE AND DEATH

_of Robert svrnamed Cvrthose_,

Duke of Normandie.

THE ARGUMENT.

“When Ioue,” said Memorie, “for Normans slaine

Through _Godwin’s_ treason vpon Guilford plaine,

From English birth his wreake would not reuoke,

But made it stoope to conquering _William’s_ yoke:

In that sad time, that noble prince I find

Most worthie of record, that Norman blind,

The stout duke _Robert_, who in th’hopefull spring

Of his greene youth, rebels against the king,

His hopes deluded sets his heart on fire,

He fights succesfully against his sire,

Is absent, when his father leaues to liue,

Who to his second sonne the crowne doth giue,

The duke returnes, finds _Rufus_ on the throne,

Both rise in armes, but gold doth make th’attone,

_Robert_ to Palestine with _Godfrey_ goes,

Wins fame in field against the Pagan foes,

Hearing of _Rufus’_ death, he thence returnes,

Finds _Henrie_ king, with indignation burnes,

Meets him in field to wreake it with his sword,

But peeres on either part make them accord,

After in peace they liue like brethren,

The duke’s kind nature wronged by the queene,

Againe he armes him to reuenge his wrong,

Fights with the king, whose part he finds too strong:

In fight is taken and to Cardiffe sent,

Where long captiu’d, in seeking to preuent

The fate of loathed thrall by secret flight,

He taken is, and is depriu’d of sight,

And after with long life in thrall opprest,

He pines away with hunger and vnrest,

Whose princely ghost let fame from graue vpraise

To make those deeds a Mirrour for our daies.”

ANOTHER ARGUMENT.

The Norman prince tels fame, how he was borne

To be a king, yet dies a duke forlorne.

[Illustration]

1.

In that great booke of Ioue’s decrees in heau’n,

Compiled ere time had any wings to moue,

The wofull wight, to whom blacke fate is giuen,

To cancell it in vaine doth after proue,

No change of time can change the will of Ioue,

What power so potent is, that can controle

The first decree that he did there inrole.

2.

Let fortune hold a crowne aboue thy head,

And at it with wit’s best direction aime,

Rise to it royally from honor’s bed,

Iustly deserue it for thy deeds of fame:

Yet shall thy carefull brow nere beare the same,

If thou in that star-text of euery thing

Foredoom’d for fate, be not inrol’d a king.

3.

Of which that thou a lasting Mirror haue,

Behold me heere a wretched prince of yore,

To whom true birth a crowne and kingdome gaue,

Whom vertue did inrich with all her store

Of goodly gifts, to make me fit therefore,

Of which depriu’d by destinie’s decree,

Woe and alas was only left to mee.

4.

Behold this feeble bodie pin’d away

With hunger’s waste, which once so stoutly bore

Our Sauiour’s badge in many a bold assay:

Behold the place where eyes haue stood before,

Now filled vp with blacke congealed gore:

Behold blind _Beauchampe_ duke of Normandie,

New crept from graue to tell his tragedie.

5.

A prince I was borne of the Norman blood,

To that victorious king the eldest sonne,

Who with his Normans, like a furious flood

From southerne seas did England ouerrun,

And to his heires the golden garland wonne,

Though heau’ns and fortune neuer would agree,

That of the same I should possessor bee.

6.

When fortune’s gentle hand had set the crowne

Vpon his happie head, when all assaies

Of his bold foes in field were beaten downe,

To me his eldest borne my state to raise,

The Norman dukedome with such long delaies

Assigned was, that I being set on fire

For such protract, turn’d rebell ’gainst my sire.

7.

Like lustie Phaeton, that gaue th’assay,

To guide the head-strong horses of the sunne,

Puft vp with pride to seeke his owne decay,

Gainst conquering _William_ his rebellious sonne,

T’aspire the dukedome violently begun,

And fier’d with heat of gaysome youth did venter,

With warlike troopes the Norman coast to enter.

8.

The false French _Philip_ dreading euery houre,

The towring state of my vnconquer’d sire,

Gaue life to my attempt, and sent a powre

Of tall strong men, as fuell for the fire

Of my ambition, lest I should retire,

And faint in pursuit of the warre begun,

Betwixt my sire and me his gracelesse sonne.

9.

As th’hungrie flame growen powerfull by degrees,

And flying on wings of winde throughout a wood,

With thirstie tongue lickes vp the leauie trees,

Or as the rising of some stormie flood:

So blinded with neglect of humane good,

My natiue Normandie I did inuade,

Making her soile the spoile of Mars his blade.

10.

To whose distresse the wrathfull conqueror came

Through sea’s rough waues, wilde furie was his guide,

Cursing my birth, ’gainst me he did exclame,

And in reuenge affection set aside,

He vow’d to scourge my most vnnaturall pride,

Setting his second birth yong _Rufus_ hight,

Before me in his loue, and in my right.

11.

At Archenbraie, both battels first did braue

Each other with proud proffer for the fight,

There th’ensignes with the wanton winde did waue,

The plume-deckt helmes with gold all horrid bright,

With pale reflection glitter’d in the light,

And 'bout both hosts in troopes the horsemen stood

Like loftie cedars in a thicke-set wood.

12.

When as the trumpe the banefull blast begunne,

In clamorous noise we clos’d on either side,

Brother ’gainst brother, father ’gainst the sonne

Themselues oppos’d, nature in fight defi’d

Euen nature’s selfe, the sun in heau’n did hide

His glorious head, denying vs his light,

As lothing to behold so strange a sight.

13.

The soules of mortall men were put to flight,

Blacke deeds of death each one did vndergo,

Need boldned cowards, hope gaue wings to might,

And made each one his best strength to bestow,

To purchase fame by downefall of his foe,

Death set on foot ran round about the field,

Whole troopes of men t’her conquering stroke did yeeld.

14.

In th’heate of fight, I caus’d a troope of horse

To breake vpon the rereward of the foe,

Who brauely gaue the charge, and with such force

Their fainting troopes in heapes did ouerthrow,

That they their rankes were forced to forgo,

Whom I well mounted on a tall strong steed,

To the maine battell did pursue with speed.

15.

Where vnder th’ensigne of his royall armes,

T’encounter with the king it was my chance,

Who bent with his owne hands, to wreake his harmes,

Did fiercely charge me with his well-aim’d lance,

’Gainst whom vnknowne my selfe I did aduance,

And in my winged course with staffe in rest,

I gaue the charge vpon his royall brest.

16.

But heau’n did calme false fortune’s threatfull brow,

And did auert the point of my sharpe speare:

Yet by his ribs the flesh it vp did plow,

And running through his arme made blood appeare,

The stubborne staffe the king to ground did beare,

Who falling from his horse in mind dismai’d,

Vnto his men aloud did call for aid.

17.

The voice descri’d my error, and with speed

I downe dismounting to my royall sire,

Did take him vp, and for my gracelesse deed

His pardon vpon my knee, I did require,

Pleading mistake t’appease his kingly ire,

Whom I remounted, and from field conuey’d,

Lest danger should his noble life inuade.

18.

Meane time the horse troopes, who by me design’d

Gaue charge vpon the flankers of the foe,

So beat the field about, that conquest shin’d

Vpon our helmes, slaughter and ouerthrow

On the aduerse part inforc’t such workes of woe,

That all by flight sought saftie, none durst stay,

_Rufus_ disgrac’d, and wounded went his way.

19.

Conquest in triumph on my brow did stand,

Fame did renowne my sword in euerie place,

Fortune with fame did ioyne her helping hand

With my displeased sire to winne me grace,

T’whom nature pleaded my vnhappie case,

And forc’t him yeeld (that both in loue might liue)

What reason would, and rage denide to giue.

20.

Restor’d to grace like Saturn’s god-like sonne,

To England I returned with the king,

Where _Malcome_ in his absence had orerun

The north from Tuuidale, where Tweed doth spring,

Vnto the Tine, whose streames such profit bring

Vnto that towne, which on her bankes doth stand,

Now call’d Newcastle built by my command.

21.

T’oppose the furie of th’inuading foe,

The king my late tri’de valor did imploy,

The Tine with wafting waues did seeme to woe

My swift accesse, to saue her from th’annoy

Of her proud foes, who daylie did destroy

The towres and townes, which did themselues enranke

About her streames, vpon the pleasant banke.

22.

Where with my troopes, when I appeard in sight

Beneath the kinglie lyon marching on

Towards Tuuidale, to seeke the foes for fight,

_Malcolme_ retirde beyond the Tweede, and none

In England’s bounds durst stay to looke vpon

Our angrie host, for peace the foemen su’d,

Which for the common good I did conclude.

23.

But leaue I now, to speake of blessed daies,

In which I liu’d true subiect to my king,

Leaue we a while to memorize the praise

Of my best deeds, thy muse againe must sing

My rebell pride, whence worse effects did spring,

Mischiefe now tracts each step, that I do tread,

Vnlookt for plagues falles downe vpon my head.

24.

Suppose thou seest me on the German coast,

Clad in rebellious armes against my sire,

Trooping vp men, to make a compleat host,

Waging th’vnwilling mind with golden hire,

And hope of spoile, to furnish my desire:

Bent once againe, vnto my sire vnknowne,

To claime the Norman dukedome, as mine owne.

25.

But ere my wicked sword I could vnsheath,

Vpon the bed of fraile mortalitie

Lies conquering _William_, in the armes of death,

T’whom enuious fame in his extremitie,

Brings tidings of his sonne’s impietie,

Debatefull enuie, finding once the thing

That breeds our shame, sets euill newes on wing.

26.

Could enuie find a darker cloud of shame,

Wherewith t’obscure the shine of my renowne?

Could fate for future woes more fitly frame

The houres of time, to cause the conqueror frowne,

Then when in death, he should dispose the crowne?

Enuie, fate, time and all things else agree,

To crosse that man, t’whom fortune crosse wil bee.

27.

The sickly king my sire, whose daies were done,

Thinking my course did threaten sure decay

To the rich trophie of his conquest wonne,

What nature gaue to me, did giue away,

To set the state vpon a surer stay:

For leauing life, he left by his decree

His crowne to _Rufus_, and his curse to mee.

28.

Tell me ambition, whence hadst thou that might,

To stirre vp nature in bold _Beauchamp’s_ brest

Gainst God, ’gainst king, ’gainst nature’s selfe to fight,

Enacting by my hand such deeds vnblest,

From the first motion of my mind’s vnrest?

From hope of rule, and empire’s blind desire,

Thou hadst that power to make me first aspire.

29.

Reason strooke blind euen from my youth’s first spring

With fond-bewitching hope in state to clime,

That hope made frustrate by the powerfull king,

Did but prefigure out for future time,

Th’vnfortunate effects of my foule crime,

The losse of crowne, the losse of all my right,

The losse of freedome and my bodie’s sight.

30.

Scarce had the hand of vnimpeached death,

Clos’d vp the eyes of England’s conquering king:

But fame, whose listning eares feeles euery breath

Of whispering rumour, set him selfe on wig,

And ouer seas to vs did tidings bring,

That our dread sire was to his graue gone downe,

And vnto _Rufus_ had bequeath’d his crowne.

31.

Heart-swolne with furie to reuenge such wrongs,

And claime the priuiledge then almost lost,

Which vnto birth by nature’s gift belongs,

Lest _Rufus_ pride in my disgrace might boast,

My quarrell strengthned with a mightie hoast,

I did arriue on England’s southerne shore,

Gainst whose white rocks the British billowes rore.

32.

The English peeres abhorring _Rufus_ pride,

In me expecting a more milde command,

Both by affection and by dutie tide

T’aduance my cause, each with his armed band,

Gainst _Rufus’_ powers in field did stoutly stand,

Whose wilder nature knowne in former daies,

Now many friends to my attempt did raise.

33.

Th’vnconquered Kentish in the English east

With that stout bishop _Odo_, first made head,

The actiue people, coasting on the west,

Marcht beneath _Mowbraie’s_ ensigne proudly spread,

The northerne rout the valiant _Bygod_ lead,

And the bold Britaines fauouring my right,

Were troopt by braue _Mountgomerie_ valiant knight.

34.

Th’vsurping king seeing such sterne stormes to frowne,

On the first spring of his ambitious raigne,

Fearing the fall of his new-borne renowne,

Sought by insinuating words to gaine,

What by the sword he could not now maintaine,

His golden gifts with many faire sweet words,

Did turne the edge of our reuengefull swords.

35.

He did not seeke t’vsurpe the crowne by might,

Such pride his loyall heart did nere inuade,

He knew my senior birth did claime that right,

He, we being absent, tooke in hand, he said,

In our behalfe the scepter then vnswai’d,

The which, since now, he did the same enioy,

He crau’d to hold of vs, as our vice-roy.

36.

His gifts still flowing from him in excesse,

Did giue full power to euery mouing word,

And that in me he might all doubts suppresse

Of fraudulent deceit, he did accord

That he of me, as of his supreame lord,

Should hold the crowne, and yearely I should claime

Three thousand markes, as tribute for the same.

37.

Fraternall loue so well her powers appli’d,

To end these iarres begun betwixt vs twaine,

That he constrain’d t’appease his wonted pride,

And I respecting glorie more then gaine,

Did reunite our selues in loue againe:

The frowne of Mars did bring his stomacke downe,

And golden gifts did calme our martiall frowne.

38.

Farre from the fruitfull Albion’s peacefull shoare,

For th’easterne world thy muse thou now must wing,

Who in her flight a loftie pitch must soare,

Of those stout pilgrims in high straine to sing,

Which th’holy hermit did to Salem bring,

Imploring aid of princes in the west,

Against the Pagan’s bloodie acts in th’east.

39.

I as a partner in that great affaire,

With my support that iourney to vphold,

My wants with store to furnish, did not spare

My Norman dukedome, which for summes of gold

Till my returne the king did morgag’d hold:

Gold doth men’s thoughts to high attempts prepare,

And ouergilds the danger of the warre.

40.

Hearken how fame vpon the Norman coast

With her shrill trumpe from kingdomes far away,

Summons vnto an head my warlike host,

Behold the sackfull troopes in braue array,

Beneath my ensignes for this bold assay,

Who martiall’d by my hand, with ample traine,

Do crowne the vtmost bankes of Belgike Seine.

41.

Behold the English famous for his bow,

Sharpning his angrie arrowes for the field,

The Scot with his long pike his cunning show,

The Britaine big-bon’d-bold, not borne to yeeld,

Addressing brauely both his sword and sheeld,

See how the Norman manageth his horse,

The Irish shakes his dart with manly force.

42.

As wak’d from sleepe, with christians wofull cries,

Bound by the Saracen in captiue bands,

And often blushing at the late surprise

Of those milke-hony-flowing holy lands,

Now made the spoile of Pagan’s conquering hands,

Hence did we march with heau’ns great king for guide

Into the east, to beate downe Pagan’s pride.

43.

Inglorious age, made drunke with dregs of peace,

Heere iustly may I taxe thy peacefull time,

Heere must our muse’s warlike song surcease,

A carping straine, a more inuectiue rime,

Doth best befit the nature of thy crime:

Looke backe at vs, mourne thine owne want of praise

And glorious deeds, to glorifie thy daies.

44.

Say glorie, say, hath peacefull follie furl’d

Thy flag of honor? li’st thou dead in graue,

With great _Heroes_ of the elder world,

Who led vs ouer Hellespontus waue

Beneath his badge, whose blood the world did saue?

Arise, arise, call forth the christian man,

Against the house of tyrant Ottoman.

45.

Hearke, how Thessalian woods records the cries

Of captiu’d Greekes vpon Penæus shore:

Behold how sacred Salem wasted lies:

See, see, how Sion mournes, where saints of yore

Did in sweet hymnes the king of heauen adore:

Behold that blessed land, the cursed seat

Where raignes th’Arabian Turkish Mahomet.

46.

O warlike nation, where is now that name,

Which th’English sword did graue on Acon’s wall,

Why do your valours sleepe, vp, vp for shame,

Let not your countrie’s ancient glorie fall:

Go, free poore christians from proud Pagan’s thrall,

Redeeme his sepulchre, who did redeeme

The world from death, with blood of such esteeme.

47.

Transport thou now thy muse to Bosphorus’ brim,

Ouer whose waues from Iuno iealous dame,

To Asian meades of yore did Io swim,

From whom transform’d the streame then tooke his name,

And since that time hath still retain’d the same,

Ouer whose waues as we did waft our host,

Much christian blood we ’gainst the Bulgar lost.

48.

Hence did we march to Hellespontus flood,

Where Helle, with yong Phrixus, put to flight

By stepdam’s rage, of which in feare they stood,

Flying, alas, and falling with affright,

Into the waue sunke downe in Phrixus’ sight:

Yet still to liue, in leauing her deare breath,

She left her name to Pontus at her death.

49.

The coast we tooke, where once Abydos stood,

Whence nak’d Leander, wafted by the light

Of Hero’s loue, so often swom the flood,

Till Helle rauisht with so sweet a sight,

Enuying Hero’s hap, in her despight

Into the deepe her deare Leander drew,

Where to his loue he sigh’d his last adew.

50.

There on the plaines, where Troye’s sad ruines stand,

Whence Agamemnon’s troopes haue often run,

To shun the furie of great Hector’s hand,

Against the Pagan many deeds were done

Beneath our standard of Ioue’s powerfull sonne,

There all the host, as towards Nice we past,

With spoilefull hands laid all the countrie wast.

51.

The noble citie Nice, so strongly wall’d,

We with our conquering host begirted round,

Her gates we wonne, her turret’s tops we scall’d,

Her towring walles we equall’d with the ground,

And all her pride did in the fire confound:

Amongst whose spoiles great Solyman’s faire make,

With her deare children we did captiue take.

52.

Then did stout Heraclêa stoope her pride

And seeing the Niceans yeeld, did yeeld with them,

From thence to Tarsus we our host did guide,

Fast by the bankes of Cydnus, whose sweet streame

Did seeme t’inuite vs to that stratageme,

Wafting vs, with slow waters sliding downe

From mountaine Taurus, vnto Tarsus towne.

53.

Where when we came with sp’rite infus’d from heauen,

We through the walles did force our dreadfull way,

The mightie towne into our hands was giuen,

The captiue foes in pitifull dismay,

With teares bemoan’d the imminent decay

Of their strong walles, which Perseus so renown’d

Had long before erected from the ground.

54.

Thence our triumphant standards we aduance

To Syria-ward with _Godfrey_ for our guide,

Where on the way, with seruice of my lance

In many a fight against the aduerse side,

I with fresh strength our fainting host suppli’d,

And forc’d the Pagan _Pyrrus_ from the field,

Who fled, and made faire Antioch wals his shield.

55.

Whom we pursu’d, and by the siluer streames

Of swift Orontes, where the king of light

Vpon our armes did cast his golden beames,

Our troopes did tracke the foe-men, turn’d to flight,

Till Antioch towers shot vp themselues in sight,

Whose pride we menac’d with victorious armes,

And shooke it in long siege with loud alarmes.

56.

Nine times the pale-fac’d queene of peacefull night,

Did lose that siluer lustre in her wane,

Which she receiu’d from Phœbus cheerefull sight,

And nine times did her brothers light againe

Renue that losse, which she did erst sustaine,

While Antioch walles our armie did enclose,

And stood in daily skirmish with the foes.

57.

In the ninth month, vpon the topfull brow

Of the towne-gate, the flag of truce did waue,

The captaine _Pyrrus_ haughtie heart did bow,

The citie stoopt her pride, and for to saue

Her selfe from spoile, her gates wide open gaue,

Whose wealth, as due reward of our long toile

To th’vniuersall host, was giuen for spoile.

58.

Should I assay to tell each conquest wonne,

Which at that time the christian host did crowne,

Or bring to light each high atchieuement done,

Before we could attaine that sacred towne,

Which God’s sonne’s sepulchre doth so renowne,

Our muse, though willing all at large to show,

Yet were too weake such taske to vndergo.

59.

See how the Persian fronts vs in the field,

Vnder the sway of whose huge horse-arm’d host,

The earth with bowing backe doth seeme to yeeld,

Whose troopes in number infinite doth boast

Our swift decay, ere we do crosse their coast,

Hemming vs round, in hope t’enrich their hands,

With noble conquest on our conquering bands,

60.

With shouts, and war-like instruments loud sound,

Hid all in clouds of smoake they toward vs came,

In fearefull fight vpon the groaning ground

Both hosts incounter’d, glorie did enflame

Both bent to fight, both greedie after fame,

Standerd ’gainst standerd stood, and band ’gainst band,

Troope clos’d with troope, men singl’d hand to hand.

61.

Corbona hight, a Persian farre renown’d,

Chargeth our host with all his troopes of horse,

Stiffe stands each regiment, no ranke giues ground,

Power beats backe power, and force repelleth force,

The foes repell’d doth often shift their course,

Oft charging and recharging euery ward,

Where they do find the rankes most vnprepar’d:

62.

Then thicke as haile from aire’s darke regiment,

When in blacke clouds a tempest raues in skie,

Steele-headed shafts from th’English bowes are sent,

Threatning the armed men as they do flie,

With singing slaughter, thicke prepar’d on high,

Who in their flight, though some fall short of wounds,

Yet some againe both men and horse confounds.

63.

Here th’angrie courser chaf’t with deadlie sting

Of wounding shaft, for verie paine and woe

Doth stampe, doth plunge, and vp from ground doth fling,

Doth snuffe, doth puffe, doth boggle, snore and blow,

Till from his back his rider he doth throw:

Then ranging through their host with sinewie shankes

He wounds his friends, disturbing all their rankes.

64.

There one with shaft infixed in his brest,

As the stalke stoopes his top orecharg’d with seed,

Hangs downe his head: another here opprest

With feare of death, forsakes his wounded steed,

Each place throughout the field our eyes did feed

With ruine of the foes dispred on ground,

Gasping for breath with many a bleeding wound.

65.

Greate Ioue the god of conquest, who from harme

Did garde our host in euerie such assay,

Did through the cloudes stretch out his mightie arme,

And on the foes did powre downe swift decay,

Slaughtering their men on heapes, few fled away:

Twice fiftie thousand dead in field did fall,

With stout _Corbona_ their cheife generall.

66.

Here could I tell the sack, which did decline

The pride of Salem, whose high walles withstood

Our fierce assaults twice fifteene dayes and nine,

How euerie street polluted with the blood

Of Pagans slaine, did seeme a crimson flood:

How Egypt’s Soldan did before vs fall,

Whom to these warrs, this towne distrest did call.

67.

But back to England we must turne our eye,

From whence, since first to Palestine I came,

Fiue times bright Pisces in the azure skie

Had in their yerelie course outrun the Ram,

Whose iust returne againe begins the same,

Where in our absence let vs view in state,

What changes haue ben wrought by time and fate.

68.

Our brother _Rufus_ with vnrighteous hand,

Swaying the scepter in the English throne,

Did so oppresse the people of his land,

That, when he left to liue, he then left none,

That would as friends his suddaine death bemone:

He in that forrest did death’s cup carowse,

Which fatall was vnto the conqueror’s house.

69.

A goodlie place, that forrest once had ben,

Where manie a towne and manie a temple stood,

Made sacred with the prayers of holie men,

All which without respect to common good,

My father did conuert into a wood,

Intitling it New Forrest, and for game,

Did after keepe wild beasts within the same.

70.

Which stir’d the stormefull wrath of heauen’s great king,

Who seeing his temples equald with the ground,

And where his priests sweet pæans once did sing,

And oft with thankfull prayers his altars crownd,

Hearing the crie of th’hunter and his hound,

Did in that place punish th’impietie

Vpon my sire, in his posteritie.

71.

His second sonne, my brother _Richard_ hight,

A hopefull youth, whom nature’s hand had sto’d

With sweetes of youth, as he, for his delight,

Did range this wood, was through the bodie gor’d

By sauage beasts, whose death my sire deplor’d

With bitter teares: yet could not quench the fire

Of Ioue’s fierce wrath, so moued was his ire.

72.

_Rufus_, his third borne sonne, in that same wood,

When he had strook an hart that fled his sight,

Was by another crost, where as he stood,

At whom one _Tirrill_ call’d, a Norman knight,

A shaft let flie, which in the lucklesse flight

Missing the deere, and glancing on the ground,

Vpon the brest the king to death did wound.

73.

He dead, yong _Henrie_ for his learning skill

Surnamed _Beauclerk_, did aspire the crowne,

And wonne the English peeres vnto his will:

Fortune once more vpon my state did frowne,

And from ambitious throne did keepe mee downe,

Mocking my hopes, denying mee command,

When she had put a scepter in my hand.

74.

After the conquest of Ierusalem,

The princes did amongst themselues accord,

To crowne my temples with the diademe,

That my abode might in distresse afford

Comfort t’all christians gainst the heathen sword:

But tidings of my brother _Rufus_ fall,

From Palestine to England me did call.

75.

That sword renownd with fall of Pagan foes

Now did brandish gainst my brother’s brest,

That sheeld, which did the Persian oft oppose

In skirmish in the field, was now addrest

Against my friends, to worke mine owne vnrest:

And all mine ensignes fam’d in forraine fight

At Winchester did waue in _Henrie’s_ sight.

76.

Where, close to swords in fight we would haue stood

Had not our friends foreseene the future harmes

Of our debate, who tending either’s good,

To calme the tempest of warre’s threatfull stormes,

First caus’d vs lay aside our angrie armes,

Then counsell’d _Henrie_ to such couenants yeeld

As _Rufus_ did, when he the state did weeld.

77.

As he, while he did liue, for England’s crowne,

Inioyned was by general states decree

Three thousand markes each yeare to pay me downe,

So _Henrie_, younger borne by birth, then he,

To like conditions thenceforth should agree,

To which we both consenting did depart,

One from the other seeming pleasde in hart.

78.

But hooded with the shew of outward loue,

Beguiling my simplicitie of mind,

He in the end a deadly foe did proue,

In my franke brest by nature too too kind,

A cunning way to catch me he did find:

Into the best minds pliable to good,

Deceit soone enters maskt in truth’s plaine hood.

79.

His queene, a woman sweetly tongu’d and faire,

By whom the king at his desire did aime,

With speech so affable did so insnare

My princely pliant thoughts, that in the same,

She could impresse, what forme she pleas’d to frame:

So free was I, that what her heart could craue,

As was my wont, with prodigue hand I gaue.

80.

The tribute due for England’s emperie,

At her request I freely gaue away,

Whereby my title and my dignitie

I lost, in that I could not then gain-say

A queene’s request, proud _Henrie_ had his prey:

A woman’s power to proue my power but vaine,

What I had done did soone vndoe againe.

81.

Wanting in after times necessitie,

Those golden sinewes of my dukedome’s state,

To strengthen my much weakned royaltie,

I gaue the king words of despitefull hate,

And for reuenge tooke armes: but froward fate

With clouds of shame did now eclipse the shine

Of all my conquests, won in Palestine.

82.

Ore the sea’s narrow brest from England’s coast

To Normandie my furious brother came,

Gainst whom, my cause being good with my small host,

Before the fort of Tenerchbray by name:

Though fewer farre, in battel’s bloodie frame

We did aduance, where though _Mortaigne_ and I

So stoutly fought, our folke the field did flie.

83.

Vpon that day, when fortie yeares before,

My sire to conquer England gaue th’assay,

In which he first set foot on England’s shore,

The king and I did meet in battell ray,

In which, alas, we Normans lost the day:

For on that day the Normans England won,

Was Normandie by English men orerun.

84.

Where, though false fortune turn’d her treacherous face,

And then began to worke our future woe,

Though dreadfull Pallas did denie vs grace,

And ’gainst our side her selfe in field did show,

Yet did we scorne, as scar’d, to flie the foe,

_Mortaigne_ and I ’gainst them alone did fight,

Till multitudes did ouermatch our might.

85.

Let Pallas cease to sing of armes oppos’d,

Sorrow must be the subiect of her song,

In stead of greaues with golden buttons clos’d,

In which she marcht amidst our martiall throng,

Now in sad straine, while we relate our wrong,

She in the sock the tragicke dance must lead,

Whose dolefull measures, we captiu’d do tread.

86.

Thy muse, that in warre’s bloodie hew was sent

To Palestine, must now in blacke be found,

Each word with heauie fall she must accent,

Each symphonie must yeeld a dolefull sound,

Each measure with a captiue band be bound,

And euery couple’s sad catastrophe,

Double the woes of our captiuitie.

87.

Now Normandie’s great duke in _Henrie’s_ hand

Vpon the rouling billowes running high,

Is carried captiue from his natiue land,

To which oft turning backe his heauie eie,

It seemes a farre to follow him and crie,

“Adew, deare lord, adew, who neuer more

With one step’s touch shall grace my sandie shore.”

88.

With griefe arriu’d on Cardiffe’s rockie coast,

Where Seuerne first meets Nereus wauie brood,

Through whose blacke waues faire Sabrine’s guiltlesse ghost,

T’Elizium bankes did passe the fatall flood,

In whose defence king Locrine lost his blood,

The tyrant king, in dread what might befall,

Did confine me within the castle wall.

89.

As bird in cage debarr’d the vse of wings,

Her captiu’d life as nature’s chiefest wrong,

In dolefull dittie sadly sits and sings,

And mournes her thralled libertie so long,

Till breath be spent in many a sithfull song:

So heere captiu’d, I many daies did spend

In sorowe’s plaint, till death my daies did end.

90.

Where as a prisoner, though I did remaine:

Yet did my brother grant this libertie,

To quell the common speech, which did complaine

On my distresse, and on his tyrannie,

That in his parkes and forrests ioyning by,

When I did please, I to and fro might goe,

Which in the end was cause of all my woe.

91.

For on a time, when as Aurora bright

Began to scale heau’n’s steepie battlement,

And to the world disclose her cheerefull light,

As was my wont, I with my keeper went

To put away my sorrowe’s discontent:

Thereby to ease me of my captiue care,

And solace my sad thoughts in th’open aire.

92.

Wandring through forrest wide, at length we gaine

A steepe cloud-kissing rocke, whose horned crowne

With proud imperiall looke beholds the maine,

Where Seuern’s dangerous waues run roling downe

From th’Holmes into the seas, by Cardiffe towne,

Whose quicke deuouring sands so dangerous been

To those, that wander Amphytrite’s greene.

93.

As there we stood, the countrie round we ey’d

To view the workmanship of nature’s hand,

There stood a mountaine, from whose weeping side

A brooke breakes forth into the low-lying land,

Here lies a plaine, and there a wood doth stand,

Here pastures, meades, corne-fields, a vale do crowne,

A castle here shootes vp, and there a towne.

94.

Here one with angle ore a siluer streame

With banefull baite the nibling fish doth feed:

There in a plow’d-land with his painefull teame,

The plowman sweates, in hope for labor’s meed

To get the earth with childe of Ceres’ seed:

Heere sits a goatheard on a craggie rock,

And there in shade a shepheard with his flock.

95.

The sweet delight of such a rare prospect

Might yeeld content vnto a carefull eye:

Yet downe the rock descending in neglect

Of such delight, the sunne now mounting high

I sought the shade in vale, which low did lie,

Where we reposde vs on a greene wood side,

Afront the which a siluer streame did glide.

96.

There dwelt sweet Philomel, who neuer more

May bide th’abode of man’s societie,

Lest that some sterner Tereus then before,

Who cropt the flower of her virginitie,

Gainst her should plot some second villanie:

Whose dolefull tunes to minde did cause me call

The woefull storie of her former fall.

97.

The redbreast, who in bush fast by did stand

As partner of her woes, his part did plie,

For that the gifts, with which Autumnus hand

Had grac’d the earth, by winter’s wrath should die,

From whose cold cheekes bleake blasts began to flie

Which made me think vpon my summer past

And winter’s woes, which all my life should last.

98.

My keeper with compassion mou’d to see,

How griefe’s impulsions in my brest did beate,

Thus silence broke: “Would God, my lord,” quoth he,

“This pleasant land, which nature’s hand hath set

Before your eyes, might cause you to forget

Your discontent, the obiect of the eye

Oft times giues ease to woes, which inward lie.

99.

Behold vpon that mountaine’s top so steepe,

Which seemes to pierce the cloudes and kisse the skie,

How the gray shepheard driues his flock of sheepe

Downe to the vale, and how on rockes fast by

The goates frisk to and fro for iollitie:

Giue eare likewise vnto these birds sweet songs,

And let them cause you to forget your wrongs.”

100.

To this I made replie: “Fond man,” said I,

“What vnder heau’n can slack th’increasing woe,

Which in my grieued hart doth hidden lie?

Of choice delight what obiect canst thou show,

But from the sight of it fresh griefe doth grow?

What thou didst whilome point at to behold,

The same the summe of sorrow doth infold.

101.

That gray coat shepheard, whom from farre we see,

I liken vnto thee, and those his sheepe

Vnto my wreatched self compar’d may bee:

And though that carefull pastor will not sleepe,

When he from rauenous wolues his flock should keepe:

Yet here, alas, in thrall thou keepest me,

Vntill that woolfe my brother hungrie bee.

102.

Those shaghair’d goates vpon the craggie hill,

Which thou didst shew, see how they friske and play,

And euerie where doe run about at will:

Yea when the lion markes them for his prey,

They ouer hils and rockes can flie away:

But when that lion fell shall follow me

To shed my blood, O whither shall I flee?

103.

Those sweet-voic’d birds, whose aires thou dost commend,

To which the echoing wood returnes replie,

Though thee they please, yet me they do offend:

For when I see, how they do mount on hie,

Wauing their out-stretcht wings at libertie:

Then do I thinke, how bird-like in a cage

My life I leade, and griefe can neuer swage.”

104.

Heere sighes broke off my speech, and that in mind

I vndisturb’d might in that place bemone

The lot adiudg’d to me by fates vnkind,

I did command my keeper to be gone,

And there to leaue me to my selfe alone,

Who doubting nothing what I would assay,

Left me, as was his wont, and went his way.

105.

He being gone, I wandring to and fro,

Began t’imagine how I might preuent

My wretched thrall, doom’d endlesse by my foe,

T’attempt all danger I stood fully bent,

Finding the meanes to perfect my intent,

Which at the last I found, alas, the while,

Since fawning fortune did my hopes beguile.

106.

Alone long wandring through the desert wood

Farre from the castle, I did chance t’espie,

Whereas a lustie gelding grasing stood,

Whom straight I backt, and did for freedome flie

Through vnknowne waies, that none might me descrie:

But what is hid from heau’n, or who can shun

God’s firme edict, by which all things are done?

107.

In swift careire, as I did heedlesse passe,

And through a meadow greene did make my way,

In midst of which a muddie quauemire was,

Into the same my horse did fall, and lay

Vp to the bellie, which my flight did stay,

Where striuing, as I was from thence t’haue past,

They that pursu’d me, found me sticking fast.

108.

To Cardiffe thence they bore me backe againe,

As one whom frowning fortune did despise,

And to the king of me they did complaine,

Who with himselfe did tyrant-like deuise,

That I for this offence should lose mine eies:

Which when he tooke, what did he leaue behind,

But woe in captiue bands to leade the blind?

109.

My bodie thus the darkesome caue was made,

In which my soule abode, as it had been

Confin’d to dwell in house of endlesse shade,

The windowes shut, no light could enter in,

The light put out no comfort could be seene:

And left thus blind, I seeke to flie my foes,

Both soule and bodie Cardiffe doth inclose.

110.

Bidding farewell vnto the world for euer,

There in my chamber, as a forlorne guest,

My wretched selfe I wilfully did seuer

From all resort, where with long night opprest

(For day did shun the place of mine vnrest)

To yeeld griefe passage, after sad sighes giuen,

Thus oft I call’d, with hands vp-lift to heau’n.

111.

“Thou powerfull God, whose champion I haue been

Fiue cold bleake winters, both by day and night,

In field against the cursed Saracen,

Although I seeme forgotten in thy sight,

Yet now behold me heere a wofull wight:

And seeing I liue in such calamitie,

Send death to end my dolefull miserie.

112.

Can I distinguish day from darkesome night?

Or do I know the seasons of the yeare?

Know I when spring deckes earth with sweet delight,

When summer’s sun glads earth with his bright cleare,

Or when in woods Autumnus’ fruits appeare?

O no, of nought but winter can I tell,

Whom by his boystrous blasts, I know right well.

113.

Where is become that azure concauite,

That doth so many wonders rare infold?

Where all the host of starres, so infinite?

Where daie’s great monarch drawne in carre of gold?

Where night’s bright queene, so beautious to behold?

O still, they do remaine in heau’n’s faire frame,

Although I neuer more shall see the same.

114.

Where now the valley greene, and mountaine bare,

The riuer, forrest, wood, and crystall springs,

The hauke, the hound, the hinde, the swift-foot hare,

The lute’s sweet straine, the voice that sweetly sings,

And princely sports in courts of mightie kings?

Where now are these? O let not memorie

With thought of these augment my miserie.

115.

Heere do I sit in shades of darkenesse grim,

While others walke in light at libertie:

Heere I in waues of wofull teares do swim,

Condoling my vnhappie miserie,

While others laugh, and sing for iollitie:

Send then, O God, send death for my reliefe,

Too heauie is the burthen of my griefe.”

116.

Thus many times, with bitter plaint and mone,

To vtter woes in words I did assay,

Witnesse ye wastefull walles, whose flintie stone

Haue euen dropt teares, to heare me night and day,

With pitious voice lament mine owne decay,

Oft wishing death, which sorow in the end,

And _Henrie’s_ vnkind scoffe did timelesse send.

117.

For as he should vpon a solemne day

Make triall of a scarlet vestiment,

The cape being straite, the which he did assay

To put vpon his head, by chance did rent,

Which with this scornefull scoffe to me he sent,

“Vnto our brother beare the same,” said he,

“We know he hath a sharper head then we.”

118.

The garment being brought, the rent I found,

At which my troubled thoughts so grieued were,

That many doubts did in the same abound,

Which made me aske of him, that did it beare,

If any one before the same did weare:

Who told me of the king’s disdainfull scorne,

And how by chance the same by him was torne.

119.

Affliction bleeding fresh at this wide wound,

My heart griefe’s burthen could no longer beare,

But downe I cast my selfe vpon the ground,

Where I with wretched hands, the hoarie heare

From off my aged head, alas, did teare,

And when my tongue was free, against my foe

I forc’d it vtter forth these words of woe.

120.

“Woe, woe is me, that I was euer borne

Of halfe so many yeares to liue the space,

And in the end to liue my brother’s scorne,

Yea trebble woe to me, since such disgrace

Doth in despight my former deeds deface:

Then perish all my deeds, be neuer seene,

Die fame with shame, as it had neuer beene.

121.

Could not disdainfull _Henrie_ be content,

Into his hands my kingdome to surprise,

Could not my thraldome cause him to relent,

Nor th’vnsustained losse of both mine eyes

His rage ’gainst me his brother yet suffice?

But must he thus my princely state abuse,

And as an almesman his owne brother vse?

122.

Why haue yee then, ah why, haue yee thus long,

Ye vnremorsefull fates produc’d that thread

Of loathed life, by life to lengthen wrong?

Why clip ye not my clew? why am I fed

With breath of life, and yet in life am dead?

Curst be such fate, and curst that fatall hower,

When first begot, I came within your power.”

123.

Hardned with griefe, in spight of death to die,

Thenceforth as loathing life I stopt mine eares,

When hungrie food for appetite did crie:

And while with hunger nature slowly weares,

My food was sighes, my drinke griefe’s mournfull teares,

Famine at length did blow the banefull breath,

Whose bitter blast did strike my soule with death.

124.

Euen as the naked woods, whose greene is lost,

Clad in hoare, their ruth do seeme to show,

In teares turn’d t’ysicles by wintrie frost:

So I my head made white with age and woe,

While from th’eyes organs teares downe drizeling flow,

When as I did perceiue approching death,

Thus tooke my last farewell with fainting breath.

125.

“Adiew the daies, that did my dole prolong,

Adiew the nights, that vexed me so soare,

Adiew false fortune, cause of all my wrong,

Who laughes to scorne the fame I won of yore,

Adiew O wrongfull world for euermore:

Ye that conspir’d my sorowes to renew

Both daies, nights, fortune, world and all adew.

126.

These hands to thee (O God) that for a gift

Thine owne deare Sonne for sin to death did yeeld,

These hands, I say, to thee I now do lift,

Which once did beare thy badge in brazen shield,

Against the Pagan foes in many a field,

Beseeching thee, from whom all mercies flowes,

To grant such grace, as death may end my woes.

127.

Twice fortie yeares and more, my daies haue ben,

And twice fifteene the Ram his race hath runne,

Since first, O Cardiffe, as in darkesome den,

Within thy walles mew’d vp from sight of sunne,

Forlorne, to mourne my fortunes I begunne:

Then pitie take, O God, on th’aged blind,

Death now begins my captiue bands t’vnbind.

128.

Leade on, leade on, vnto that heau’nly place,

Where in eternall blisse my soule must dwell,

Flie faith before, sue penitence for grace,

Backe, backe, my griefe, and vnto _Henrie_ tell,

_Beauchamp_ is dead, Cardiffe adew, farewell:”

This said, I downe did sinke into my bed,

In which my soule did leaue the bodie dead.

129.

Thus hast thou heard the Norman’s blind duke tell

His fame in forren parts, the wretched wracke

Of his renowne, and cause for which he fell:

The iudge of heau’n to punish is not slacke,

Where men do cast heau’n’s gifts behind their backe:

Of which let my sad life in Cardiffe lead,

A lasting Mirrour be, though I be dead.

THE MEMORABLE LIFE

_and death of King Richard the_

first, surnamed Cœur de Lion.

THE ARGUMENT.

“This prince,” quoth Memorie, “did liue too long,

At his sterne brother’s hands to beare such wrong,

Which yet reuenged was by God’s owne hand,

Vpon himselfe, his children, and his land:

Two sonnes he had, of daughters also twaine,

Of which three drown’d, were swallow’d in the maine,

The fourth a daughter was, which _Maud_ by name,

Of whom _Plantagenet’s_ two houses came:

Duke _Gefferie_ of Aniou, noble knight,

Vpon this _Maud_ begate that worthie wight,

Duke _Henrie_, second king that bore that name,

Though second to no king in deeds of fame,

Who yong, yet forc’d th’vsurper _Stephen_ in fight

To leaue to him the crowne, his due by right:

He in chast bed begot three sonnes and one,

Hight _Henrie_, _Richard_, _Gefferie_, and _Iohn_:

Mongst whom that _Richard_ when both _Henries_ dide,

On England’s throne did sit as supreme guide,

Since _William’s_ conquest, only he of kings

His host in person gainst the Pagan brings,

He sackes Messina, beats the Cypriotes bold,

Captiues their barbarous king in gyues of gold,

Takes Acon’s towers, is of the French enuide,

And left forlorne, yet after quels the pride

Of _Saladine_ in field, after whose flight

He makes all Syria subiect to his might:

Prince _Iohn_ rebels, the valiant king is sold

To captiue bands, and bought againe for gold:

At his returne he crownes himselfe againe,

And is by traytor’s hand vntimely slaine:

The truth of which that we exactly heare,

Fame sound thy trumpe, and cause his ghost t’appeare.”

ANOTHER ARGUMENT.

Fame’s siluer trumpe’s farre-flying sound, doth make

King _Richard Cœur de Lion’s_ ghost t’awake.

[Illustration]

1.

The wrath of heau’n doth most pursue those men

With secret iudgement of disaster fate,

That gainst their parents haue rebellious ben,

Nature displeas’d at such vnkindly hate

Against it selfe, it selfe doth aggrauate,

Causing the starres at such abortiue birth,

With bad aspects to frowne vpon the earth.

2.

Seldome such cursed insects in our kind

Escape the scourge of hatefull destinie,

Vnhappie chance in iudgement is assign’d

Till death, to follow such impietie,

Which to the world my life might testifie,

If any in this age with painefull pen,

Had made the same a Mirrour vnto men.

3.

Why should the glorie of so great a king

Be darkned by obliuion’s cloudie frowne?

Why should this age, as loathing euery thing

Of th’elder world, my trophies all cast downe,

And let my deeds in waues of silence drowne?

As if twixt best and worst no ods there were,

When both alike are laid vpon the bere.

4.

Long hauing slept, and now rouz’d vp by fame

That keepes the due reward of doing well,

In hope thy pen will helpe to raise my name

Out of obliuion’s den where it did dwell,

In course I come my storie’s truth to tell:

That by the praise, or dispraise of my name,

Others may make a Mirrour of the same.

5.

Of noble _Henrie_, second of that name,

The second sonne I am of sonnes twice two,

Yet second vnto none in worthie fame,

If yeelded were to me my praises due,

As may appeare by that which shall ensue:

First _Richard_ call’d, first true borne English king,

That wore the crowne since Normans conquering.

6.

In large discourse to light I will not bring,

The obloquie of that now loathed crime,

In stubborne youth against my lord and king,

Blushing, I wish all such records of time

In darknesse dead, and wrapped vp in slime:

Yet seeing that truth bids hide no part of blame,

I will in briefe blaze out mine owne defame.

7.

My father’s browes with prints of age repleate,

Fortune that erst did smile, began to frowne,

Abus’d by flatterie and his owne conceat,

As bent with wilfull hands to hasten downe

The statefull dignitie of his renowne:

His eldest borne he made his fellow king,

From whose ambition his distresse did spring.

8.

Yong _Henrie_ sharing equall dignitie,

And hauing set one foot within the throne,

Puft vp with pride to make a monarchie

Of his new state, he would be king alone,

A partner in the crowne he would haue none:

Which pride of mind with bad aduice borne higher,

Caus’d him rebell against his royall sire.

9.

To strengthen his ambition yet but yong,

The false French king in person did support

His part in field: and to be yet more strong,

The Scot and Flemming he did both exhort

With them gainst aged _Henrie_ to consort,

To whom both I and _Gefferie_ my brother

Did giue consent, excited by our mother.

10.

Not one of vs whom nature’s band did bind

With due alleageance to our sire and king,

Did vnto nature’s selfe not proue vnkind,

Yet could not power preuaile, nor enuie’s sting

Against our sire, whom heau’n did helpe to bring

Our stubborne neckes againe beneath his yoke,

Our knees did stoope to his victorious stroke.

11.

Oft did we threaten ruine to his state,

His Norman dukedome with warre’s wastefull spoile

We did deface, and sought to set debate

Twixt him and his: yet after all our toile,

At his weake hands we did receiue the foile:

So iust is heau’n to patron right gainst wrong,

And guard the weake with strength against the strong.

12.

To future time the king to leaue report

Of our rebellion and his long vnrest,

Did cause to be depainted in his court

A pellican, who breeds beneath his brest

Foure yong with tender care in his warme nest,

Of which three waxing strong, vnkindly rise

And pecke his brest, the fourth peckes out his eies.

13.

By the three first, he did decipher forth,

_Geffrie_, my selfe, and _Henrie_ his first sonne:

The fourth was stubborne _Iohn_ his yongest birth,

Of whom when he was likewise left alone,

He beat his manly brest with age foredone,

And ending griefe in death, to vs vnkind,

My selfe and _Iohn_, he left his curse behind.

14.

The sinne that drew these plagues vpon his head,

Was wanton lust and loose lasciuious life,

Burnt with desire, he left his lawfull bed,

For which the iealous queene his angrie wife,

Twixt him and vs stirr’d vp debatefull strife:

Mischiefe pursues the steps that false do proue,

In the firme couenant of sinlesse loue.

15.

Vnhappie we, his gracelesse sonnes that were

The rods of heau’n’s reuenge for his misdeed,

Did the reward of our rebellion beare,

In vs our father’s curse, the plaguefull meed

Of disobedience after did succeed,

The rods, with which Ioue executes his ire,

He oft in iudgement casts into the fire.

16.

When _Henrie_ crown’d a king in royall throne

And made in state coequall with our sire,

Attempting oft the soueraignetie alone

In sway of scepter, which he did aspire,

And yet could neuer compasse his desire:

With indignation at his fortunes crost,

Being stricken to the heart his health he lost.

17.

And seeing in sicknesse with repentant eies,

The vglie shape of sinne, heart-freez’d with cold,

Of death’s pale terror, he for mercie cries,

And begs but this, that he may but behold

Our father’s face, ere he be wrapt in mould:

Which last request our father him deni’d,

Doubting deceit in death, when _Henrie_ di’d.

18.

My yonger brother Britaine’s _Gefferie_,

A partner with vs in rebellious pride,

To pay iust paines for his disloyaltie

Vnto our father, bruzed on the side

With fall from off his horse, vntimely dide:

In youth cut off, as most vnworthie life,

That with his father liu’d in rebell strife.

19.

This vengeance for such disobedient sin,

Vnto my brethren as in mercie sent,

Might to my future deeds haue caueats bin:

But I in heart too stubborne to relent,

And proud prince _Iohn_ did once againe consent,

To lift rebellious hands against our sire,

In his last daies when age did rest require.

20.

The French king’s power we did support in field,

And did in armes the aged king constraine

To such dishonor’d tearmes of truce to yeeld,

That he in heart vnable to sustaine

The griefe of such disgrace, with sorow slaine,

In those last words which dying he did breath,

To vs his curse most iustly did bequeath.

21.

After his death, to shew that griefe and shame

Of my misdeeds, did put his soule to flight,

His cold dead corps, as I beheld the same,

Streaming out blood did shew the great despight

That it conceiu’d at my detested sight:

Which forc’d griefe’s drops to dew my manly face,

Toucht at the heart with shame of such disgrace.

22.

Thus hauing blaz’d out those vnnaturall crimes,

The wicked brood of my degenerate pride,

I will no longer vilifie thy rimes:

Thou now to tell what after did betide

Vnto the house of fame, thy muse must guide,

And mount her thoughts to th’highest pitch of glorie,

In loftie straine to sing my golden storie.

23.

No sooner was the kingdome’s scepter seene

In my right royall hand, but that in mind

Transform’d I was from what I once had beene,

And turn’d my back to fore-past shame: heau’n shin’d

Vpon my head, thoughts only now enclin’d

To actions of true praise did heau’n aspire,

Forren affaires gaue wings to my desire.

24.

For absolution for my trespasse done

Against my sire, when I did vnderstand

How _Saladine_, the Pagan prince, had wonne

The sacred Salem and the holy land,

Which christian princes did of late command:

The christian badge I bore vpon my brest,

And did direct my iorney towards the east.

25.

The ablest men through my large emperie,

That I could chuse for this so great affaire,

From England, Guien, Poyctou and Normandie,

From Britaine and from Aniou did prepare,

Themselues in best habilliments of warre,

T’insue their father’s steps, and gaine againe

What they had wonne, and we could not retaine.

26.

Report from Rome did tidings daily bring,

Who stood in feare of th’heathen’s bold assay,

How mightie _Saladine_ the Pagan king,

Had proudly purpos’d Palestine’s decay,

To glut the gulfe of his vnsaciate pray,

Wishing vs hasten to the christian aid,

Who ouer-matcht with power, were much dismai’d.

27.

The warre-god rouz’d with ratling drumme’s alarme,

Rose vp and left his louely lemman’s bed,

Himselfe he for the field did brauely arme,

Tooke vp his mightie launce, and boldly led

Our battels forth, with crosse-fam’d ensignes spred,

On which as marching we infixt our eies,

We hastned on to meet our enemies.

28.

Leauing my kingdome’s state beneath the sway

Of foure estates, in peace to keepe the same,

I crost the seas and tooke my readie way

To Lyons that French towne: where when I came

The king I met, then _Philip_ call’d by name,

Who for this great affaire had vow’d to goe

With his support against the common foe.

29.

Our armies being ioyn’d, we marched on,

Where that strong bridge that ouerlookes the waue

Of Rhodanus, beneath our feet did grone,

And brake, where many, whom no helpe could saue,

In that blacke strugling streame did find their graue:

At which dismai’d, to part we did agree,

And after both to meet in Scicilie.

30.

From hence ore aged Tython’s purple bed,

For Scicilie thy muse must take her flight

To mount Pelorus, on whose loftie head,

Let her insist and view our nauall might

Afloat vpon those seas, so faire a sight

King _Philip_ on the shore with his French powers

Did then admire from off Messanae’s towers:

31.

There do behold my men in thickest throng,

Scaling Messanae’s walles, and beating downe

The citie gates in wreake of that foule wrong

Done gainst vs all by that iniurious towne,

Who with first conquest did our sword renowne:

Vpon whose walles our banners we did pight,

Which did the false French _Philip_ much despight.

32.

In spight of hate the cause we did protect

Of our queene sister, _Ioan_ of Scicilie,

Whose husband dead, prince _Tancred_ late elect

To sway the scepter of that emperie,

Did with vnfit repulse her due denie,

Till now at length he by our power compell’d,

Did yeeld her dowrie, which he long withheld.

33.

Keeping the feast of his natiuitie,

Whose birth true peace t’all humane soules did bring,

In _Tancred’s_ court, there first the treacherie

Of faithlesse _Philip_, that ignoble king,

Did shew it selfe: who did intend to bring

All my designements for the christian aid,

To ill effect by plots which he had laid.

34.

The stout Scicilian king he did excite

T’inuade my campe, and that he might not faile,

He wisht him take th’aduantage of the night:

And lest my dreaded might his mind might quaile,

He with his power would helpe him to assaile:

So much did he maligne my name’s renowne,

Which all true noble hearts with praise did crowne.

35.

But I that did preferre a royall minde

Before base thoughts of griping auarice,

And prince-like did with bountie’s hands strike blinde

The eyes of enuie in mine enemies,

Did finde such grace, that none could preiudice

My name or state, but euen amongst my foes

I found such friends as would the same disclose.

36.

_Tancred_ that did admire the royalties,

That in my kingly brest did make repose,

Could not conceale the French-man’s treacherie:

But with a kingly sp’rit, disdaining those

That traytors were, this treason did disclose:

Seldome base treacherie it selfe can seat

On the high pitch of kingly bred conceat.

37.

_Philip_ disgrac’d, did launch into the deepe,

Being bound for Acon that besieged towne,

Where leauing him, thy muse her course must keepe

Vnto that land, whose name did first renowne

The queene of loue, and her first altars crowne:

Whence she may safely see how Neptune raues,

And wrackes my ships in the Pamphilian waues.

38.

When launcht vpon the seas my ships were seene,

From the Scicilian shore with that sweet maid,

Nauare’s faire _Berengaria_, my new queene:

Neptune as if he did intend t’haue pray’d

On my late chosen loue, began t’inuade

My blacke fleete’s wooden walles, which he did batter

With bounding billowes of his rough rouz’d water.

39.

Tempestuous winds, whose swelling cheekes did draw

The louring clouds full burthened with blacke showers,

Flew on the waues, which breaking with the flaw,

Foaming white froth, did rise like loftie towers,

In roring traine, trooping vp all their powers,

Darknesse did hide the chearefull face of heau’n,

Our ships disperst, were each from other driuen.

40.

T’encrease our feare, and make the night more grimme,

Through heau’n’s thicke clouds pale lightning still did flie,

Whose dazeling flash our mazed sight did dimme,

While the world’s soueraigne in the thickned skie,

Aboue our heads did thunder horriblie,

From whence his darts with sulphurie flash he threw,

Which brimstone-like did sauour as it flew.

41.

The seas did swell, and proudly braue the beau’n,

The windes did bellow and the billowes rore,

Many tall ships with gust of tempest driuen,

To saue themselues from spoile, all desperate bore

Vnto the hauens of the Cyprian shore,

Vpon whose strand the barbarous Cypriotes stood

T’encrease their woes that did escape the flood.

42.

Of those whose barkes did perish in the deepe,

Some hauing gain’d the shore with life halfe drown’d,

They tooke, whom as their captiues they did keepe,

And some by swimming hauing footing found,

Comming on shore with death they did confound:

Which when I heard, the storme once blowen away,

Such wrong with iust reuenge I did repay.

43.

The depth of danger we did vndergo

To gaine the shore, such ods there was in fight:

Yet at the last our foes their backes did show,

And left the shore to vs, but after flight

_Isakius_ their stout king resuming sp’rit,

Troopt vp his people, summon’d far and neare,

And threatned fight when day light should appear.

44.

But to preuent his threats, before the day

His treasure, standard, horse and royall armes

In field we tooke, from whence he fled away

Despoil’d and naked, fearing th’horrid harmes,

Which through his tents did ring with our alarmes:

That night, whose next daie’s light did promise faire

Vnto his hopes, did end them in despaire.

45.

Heere could I tell the conquest and rich spoile,

Which for those wrongs, that we did erst sustaine,

My souldiers made on Cyprus fruitfull soile:

How false _Isakius_ yeelding did remaine

With me in hold, and fled away againe,

Whom after taken for his trespasse past,

In guiues of gold I then did shakle fast.

46.

[Sidenote: _Salphadine_ the brother of _Saladine_.]

But deeds of more import are to be told,

Thy muse must launch with vs from Cyprus shore,

That on the surging seas she may behold

Prince _Salphadine’s_ huge barke, whose bosome bore

Such furniture for warre, sent to restore

The weakned strength of Acon almost lost,

Then round besieged by the christian host.

47.

To whom like floting _Delos_ on the waue

We gaue the chase, till turning backe from flight,

With all her fights set vp she did vs braue,

And fifteene hundred men all arm’d for fight,

Vpon her deckes did shew themselues in sight,

Whom in our gallies thronging in thicke croud,

My souldiers did assaile with clamours loud.

48.

Oft times with valour the repulse they gaue

To vs, that sought to boord their ship and scale

Her wooden walles, so high aboue the waue,

Till from our bowes, shafts thicke as winter’s haile,

Their stoutest hearts with deadly wounds did quaile,

Who shrinking from the fight my men did boord,

And in their furie did not spare the sword.

49.

Then did appeare the ruine of the foe,

Gasping for breath in vaine, sweet life they craue,

The blood of wounded men did streaming flow

Into the flood, and here and there it gaue

A crimson colour to the siluer waue:

Whereby through th’English fleet each little boat

In Pagan blood triumphantly did float.

50.

With that great monster barke two hundred men

Reseru’d from death, in triumph we did scower

The seas: to Acon’s siege begirted then

By all the christian host, from whose watch-tower

The foe-men viewing my approching power,

And hearing of my deed vpon the deepe,

No longer did intend the towne to keepe.

51.

Yet after my arriue they being fed

With lingring hope, did change their first intent,

Gainst vs the towne did proudly beare her hed:

For hearing of a priuate conuoy sent,

With fresh supplie for their prouision spent,

Though faint for food, yet they did after sheeld

Their walles with stout defence and would not yeeld.

52.

To frustrate Acon’s hopes of such supplies,

And with some high aduenture to renowne

Our English name, finding by my espies

The passage where the carriages came downe,

From Babylon to that distressed towne:

I with a band of choice selected men,

Departed from the christian host vnseene.

53.

From vnder couert of a thicke-set groue,

On the carauan first the charge we gaue,

Three thousand burthened camels in a droue

We from the conuoy tooke, who for to saue

The rest from spoile, at first aloofe did waue,

But when we towards them made, though more they were

In number farre, they tooke the wings of feare.

54.

With many a thousand mule, and many a beast

Of other burthen, we return’d with speed

Vnto the christian host, where we did feast

Vpon the prey: the towne of this our deed

Inform’d by fame, and forc’d by hungrie need,

Her gates did open of her owne accord,

To saue her sonnes from warre’s reuengefull sword.

55.

Heere must thy willing muse desist to tell

Our happie hopefull conquests in the east,

Cauils breake forth, enuie rouz’d vp from hell,

Creepes into false king _Philip’s_ cankred brest,

Who with old hate of my good hap possest,

Doth by his plots the Austrian duke excite,

To ioyne with him to worke vs all despight.

56.

As still th’infection of this foule disease,

Contagious venome in their brests did breed,

So my name’s greatnesse daily did encrease,

While they on spleene nere satisfied did feed,

Fortune still grac’d me with some glorious deed:

Vertue enui’d shines brighter, like the sun,

Which breakes through clouds, with which it was orerun.

57.

With enuious eyes, impatient to behold

The golden beames of my sun-shine like fame,

_Philip_ with th’Austrian duke hight _Leopald_,

Without respect vnto our Sauiour’s name,

The cause for which to Palestine we came:

Seeming heart-sicke, did thence depart away,

Hoping to leaue me to the foes for pray.

58.

He gone, the hand of heau’n that doth dispose

The course of things, did beare before my brest

The shield of safetie gainst our Pagan foes:

With my small troope their powers in field supprest,

The bordring christian held his right in rest:

No crosse euent while I did there abide,

In honor’d deeds of armes did me betide.

59.

If thou desire those famous acts to know,

Mount Perseus horse, to Ioppa take thy way,

Which at this time that fatall stone can show,

To which the virgin faire Andromeda

In bands was bound, to be the monster’s pray:

There on that rocke thy muse may sit and see

Those deeds of fame, that then were done by mee.

60.

Assur can speake my praise, before whose wall

Great _Saladine_ with all his heathnish host,

In battell did beneath mine ensignes fall,

Who in my passage seeking to haue crost

My way to Ioppa, on that salt sea cost,

Fought from noone-tide vntill the setting sun,

And then did flie, the field we christians won.

61.

In fortie yeares before the Saracen

Such losse did not sustaine in Palestine,

Nor in one battell lost so many men:

The towring state of mightie _Saladine_

In this fight shaken, daily did decline:

That ancient kingdome of the Syrian land

Did fall from him, and was at our command.

62.

From wel-wall’d Ascalon, that ancient towne

The Pagans fled with all their golden good,

Darus did stoope her pride, Assur came downe

Vpon her knees, Ioppa the port that stood

Vpon the Syrian shore, before the flood

With generall deluge did the world orespread,

Did beare the christian badge vpon her head.

63.

To follow fortune brauely marching on,

Who with auspicious looke did seeme to smile,

We did direct our course to Babylon:

But she false ladie did my hopes beguile,

And forc’d me with mine armie to recoile:

Fame ouer seas on her vnluckie wing

Sad tidings from the west to vs did bring.

64.

Backe, backe to England, with a grieued heart,

Leauing these blest affaires of th’holy one

Of Israel, we must with griefe depart:

_Philip_ my foe excites my brother _Iohn_

In my long absence to aspire the throne:

My England’s rockie bounds ring with alarmes

Of factious traytors, _Iohn_ is vp in armes.

65.

Warn’d by report, my course I did direct

For England’s bounds: but heere thy muse must know

My father’s curse began to take effect:

Heau’n seem’d to frowne, the sea became my foe,

And earth conspir’d to worke my greater woe:

By sea’s darke waues and froward winds from heau’n,

Vnto my foes at shore I vp was giuen.

66.

By tempest driuen, from danger to be free,

I made hard shipwracke on the Istrian strand,

Depriu’d of all my traine, excepting three,

Enforc’d I was to make my way by land

Through Austria, to Vienna, that doth stand

Vpon Danubius bankes, that dukedome’s seat,

The bulwarke now gainst Turkish Mahumet.

67.

There being descri’d vnto mine ancient foe

The Austrian duke I was giuen vp for pray:

Who like himselfe, himselfe to me did show,

Bearing in mind the malice of that day,

When I at Acon, for his proud assay

In taking for his lodging in the towne

The palace vp, I cast his ensignes downe.

68.

Yet with this duke not long was my abode:

For when report of my captiuitie

Was newly set on wing, and flowen abroad,

_Henrie_ then emperour of Germanie,

Forgetfull of emperiall royaltie,

Of that false duke that had me fast in hold,

Greedie of prey, did purchase me for gold.

69.

Vpon that man, whom fortune doth begin

To leaue forlorne, who will not seeme to frowne?

When he is sunken vp vnto the chin

In waues of sad distresse, all thrust him downe,

And suffer him in wretchednesse to drowne:

They that did enuie my great state before,

Did wish such state might nere betide me more.

70.

Ambitious _Iohn_, and _Philip_ that false king,

Taking the time to perfect their intent,

To _Henrie_ did a golden message wing,

In hope if he to set me free was bent,

Such purpose with corruption to preuent:

Which when with terror stricken I did heare,

No hope I had, no comfort did appeare.

71.

Ignoble age, branded with this foule crime,

This blemish thou canst neuer wipe away:

When true record shall tell to future time,

How most vniust the christian did repay

His backe returne, that did through death assay,

Gainst paganisme t’aduance the christian name,

Euen children shall vpbraid thee with the same.

72.

In tempest of this trouble long being tost,

Sore grieu’d in mind for my captiuitie,

At length compounding with my greedie host

Th’emperour _Henrie_, hight of Germanie,

With ransome to redeeme my libertie:

An hundred thousand pounds I did agree

To giue to him before I could be free.

73.

Now is my iourney set on foot againe

For my deare England: now false _Philip_ stormes,

Now _Iohn_ repents, and feare doth him constraine,

In peace to lay downe his rebellious armes,

And by our mother seeke to shun those harmes

Approching on: t’whom I in reuerence

Of her estate, gaue pardon for his offence.

74.

In England safe arriu’d, the people greet

My glad returne with bright bone-fires and bels,

My royall London in each seuerall street,

By her large gifts and golden glorie tels

Within her walles what faithfull subiects dwels:

And I, in hope that heau’n would blesse my reigne

With better fortunes, crown’d my selfe againe.

75.

But on the swift wings of reuenge for France,

Hasten thy muse to Vernuile that strong towne,

There see French _Philip_ flie before my lance,

And at Vandosme how his armes cast downe,

He flies, and leaues vs treasure and renowne:

Of which two flights, this age doth since that time

To his disgrace record a shamefull rime.

76.

Disgrac’d, he cals the Britons to his aide,

With their yong _Arthur_ sonne of _Gefferie_

My brother dead, for which with wrathfull blade

I entred his rich dukedome Britanie,

And vengeance tooke for his disloyaltie:

Whence, when my wreake was past, I did aduance

With ensignes spread into the bounds of France:

77.

Where heau’n did blesse me with such fate in fight,

That _Philip_ in each field I did repell:

Let Gamages and Vernon speake his flight,

And at another time let Gysors tell,

How flying from Curseile’s, with his horse he fell

Into the waues of Geth, the bridge brake downe,

Whom mongst his men the streame did almost drowne.

78.

Repulst with shame, he casting in his mind,

With rags of honor, how to patch the rent

In his wide wounded name, this shift did find:

Out of the greatnesse of his mind he sent

This challenge bold: if I durst giue consent,

That fiue for him in field should hazard life,

Against fiue men of mine to end our strife.

79.

To this bold offer I did gladly yeeld,

Yet interposing this condition,

That he as chiefest champion in the field,

Should mongst the fiue vpon his part make one,

Gainst me on th’aduerse part to fight alone:

From which, without respect vnto a name,

Mongst men renown’d he did reuolt with shame.

80.

Yet was a truce concluded twixt vs both,

To which with willing minde I did encline,

For that I then had bound my selfe by oath

Once more to shape my course for Palestine,

T’employ my valour gainst great _Saladine_:

But what I did decree, death soone preuents,

Heau’n beares the chiefest stroke in our intents.

81.

Thy muse must now put on a mourning weed,

Death doth begin to shew his ghastly face,

With sad teares mourner-like let her proceed,

To Chalus Cheuerell that fatall place,

Where death with his cold armes did me embrace:

There let her stand, and on that towne’s strong wall

Behold the manner of my haplesse fall.

82.

My treasure spent by my long warres with France,

And gainst the Pagan for the east parts bound,

I was inform’d that in my land by chance

A British vicount, _Widdomer_, had found

A wealthie treasure hidden vnder ground:

For whom when I had sent, he guiltie fled

To Chalus Cheuerell to hide his hed:

83.

Whom I did follow, hastned on by fate,

And did besiege the towne, where in mine ire

For such indignitie against my state,

I made my vowes thence neuer to retire,

Vntill I should obtaine my iust desire:

Three daies with fierce assault I did assaile,

But all in vaine, my power could not preuaile.

84.

The towne so strongly situated was,

And the stout foes imboldned by the same,

That of our powers they did little passe:

Whose stubborne pride of strength that I might tame,

I chose a captaine, _Marchades_ by name,

To walke with me, and view that fatall towne,

Where t’vndermine her walles and cast them downe.

85.

Each step I treade doth hasten on my end,

And leads to death vnthought vpon, vnseene:

For as with eyes infixt I did attend

The towne’s foundation, loe, an arrow keene

Sent from the towne wall, wounded me betweene

The necke and shoulder with his venom’d poynt,

Iust in the natiue closure of the ioynt.

86.

Deepe was the wound and full of deadly paine,

Yet did it not my mightie minde appall,

Before the towne in siege I did remaine,

Vntill her people did for mercie call,

And prostrate at my feet did humblie fall:

Whom when the raging souldiers in their ire

Would haue deuour’d, I spar’d from spoile and fire.

87.

But death doth hasten my vntimely end,

The wound lookes blacke, the poison doth appeare

In his effects, and bids me to commend

My soule to God: my friends who held me deare,

All round about me stand with heauie cheare:

And when I knew that breath began to vade,

I call’d for him that had my life betray’d.

88.

Vnto the man before me brought, whose name

_Bertram de Gord’an_ was, these words I spake,

“What iust offence,” quoth I, “did cause thee aime

At my deare life? or wherefore didst thou take

Me for thy marke, and in thy aime forsake

Hight _Marchades_, my friend, that by me stood,

When thou didst shoot thy shaft to shed my blood?”

89.

The man with courage turn’d this stout replie:

“Because,” said he, “thou in thy warres didst kill

My father and my brethren, therefore I

Did vow in my reuenge thy blood to spill:

Which since I haue attain’d and haue my will,

What do I care though all thy friends do weepe,

Seeing that mine shall not vnreuenged sleepe?”

90.

I did admire that his sterne words were such,

And yet forgaue his fact, and gaue command

That none amongst my friends with violent touch

On him should after lay offensiue hand:

And that he might not in their danger stand,

I gaue him twentie crownes to beare him thence,

From those that seem’d to threaten his offence.

91.

Thus with my chiefest foe my peace I made,

And when I sensiblie felt nature’s waste,

To friends about me such like words I said:

Quoth I: “Come neere, and since all hope is past

Of longer life, whose line long cannot last,

Attend my words, and witnesse after death,

What in my will I to the world bequeath.

92.

To _Iohn_ my brother I resigne my crowne:

_Arthur_ is French and rebell to the state:

Seeke not with wilfull hands to hasten downe

What I haue built by future time’s debate:

Factions will grow, and I foresee the fate,

The wofull fate that England will betide

When I am gone, that did enrich her pride.

93.

Not long thy king, deare England, can I be,

Death’s cold begins into my heart to creepe,

No more thy fame can be aduanc’d by me:

To _Iohn_ the prince I tender thee to keepe,

When I with death haue laid me downe to sleepe:”

Thus death when I ten yeares had been a king,

T’vntimely end my life and reigne did bring.

94.

My deeds I did atchieue with much vnrest,

Death with blacke period did my deare life close,

In prime of age approuing heau’ns behest,

Which seldome doth allot long life to those

That to their parents proue rebellious foes:

Of which that I may testimony giue,

Let _Cœur de Lion_ in remembrance liue.

THE VNFORTVNATE

_Life and Death of King Iohn_.

THE ARGUMENT.

“This prince to future time,” quoth Memorie,

“Remaines a Mirrour of true charitie,

Who at his death that traytour did forgiue,

Whose bloodie hand did him of life depriue:

But _Marchades_ for vengeance did suruiue,

The traytour taken he did fley aliue:

Now to the next, whom vp from graue we bring,

Prince _Iohn_ the brother of the late dead king:

He takes the crowne as due to him of gift,

At whose good fortunes many hands do lift:

_Philip_ beyond the seas inuades his lands:

_Arthur_ in Aniou with his British bands,

Pursues the aged mother of the king,

Who to the rescue all his powers doth bring:

Takes _Arthur_ captiue, and for his disdaine

Sends him to Rouen castle, whence againe

He nere returnes: wonders in heau’n are seene,

Treason amongst the peeres, the wrathfull spleene

Twixt Rome’s proud _Innocent_ and stout king _Iohn_:

The French afresh inuade, the king finds none

To take his part: the Irish do rebell:

The Welch breake forth, both whom he doth compell

To stoope their pride: the curse of _Innocent_,

Against whose pride the king stands stiffely bent:

_Philip’s_ huge nauie doth on England frowne,

The king vnto the legate yeelds his crowne:

The lords rebell, the king is left forlorne,

Abus’d, reuil’d, and made his people’s scorne:

Seekes th’aid of strangers, and in his fierce ire,

Flies ore the kingdome like a flaming fire;

The barons flie from him, and seeke to bring

The French prince _Lewis_ in, to make him king:

He lands in Kent, London receiues his traine,

From th’haplesse king all fals away againe:

The French men’s pride the English sore opprest,

King _Iohn’s_ reuenge, poore England’s woes encreast:

In midst of hope t’expell his enemies,

The wretched king at Swynsted poysoned dies:

All which, since many writers in his daies,

Of very malice writ in his dispraise,

That we may heare, let fame with summons call

His princely ghost, to tell his tragicke fall.”

ANOTHER ARGUMENT.

Fame cals king _Iohn_: his grieued ghost doth wake,

Comes vp from graue, and heere his turne doth take.

[Illustration]

1.

Discord the daughter of dissension,

Home-hel-hatcht furie with bewitching charmes,

Doth sooner ruine _Cæsar’s_ royall throne,

Then all the imminent inuading harmes,

That can inferred be by forren armes:

Where people hate, and where the prince doth frowne,

What might builds vp, dissension soone puls downe.

2.

Of which I once that sway’d this scepter state,

Vniustly wrong’d by peeres, vnkindly sold

To wretched fortune by my subiects hate,

A Mirror might haue been in lines of gold,

If to this age my storie truth had told:

But th’vnkind age presents to iudgement’s eye

My shame at large, but lets my praise go by.

3.

To whom shall I my many wrongs complaine?

Since false traditions of those enuious times,

Inuented by my foes, do yet remaine,

Liuing to euery eye in forged rimes,

As matter for the sceane obiecting crimes

Vnto my charge, which firme in censure stands,

Though nere enacted by my guiltlesse hands.

4.

The long concealed griefe of discontent,

Which for such vniust scandall I sustaine,

Vp from the graue my grieued ghost hath sent,

On such sterne people iustly to complaine,

That vilifie my praise with lips prophane,

Speaking what then the superstitious wits

Vnto this age recorded haue in writs.

5.

Could not the enuie of that age be quell’d

With my last houre’s vntimely tragedie?

Could not these burning veines with poison swell’d,

Their deadly hate against me satisfie?

O no, in death their malice will not die:

For which now summon’d by the trumpe of fame,

I gladly come to put away such shame.

6.

My royall birth _Plantagenet_ can show,

Stout _Cœur de Lion’s_ life declares the same,

Who was the second sonne as thou dost know,

Vnto king _Henrie_ second of that name,

Who grew so great in wealth, in strength and fame,

His yongest sonne I was, by name hight _Iohn_,

Next after _Richard_ seated on the throne.

7.

Thy lines with spot of that disloyaltie

Against my sire, Ile not defile againe,

Nor will I tell that false conspiracie

Against my brother _Richard_, to obtaine

From him his life, his kingdome, and his raigne:

For he at large doth in his tragedie,

Declare the manner of my treacherie.

8.

Ambitious ayme at greatnesse in the state,

Most incident to men of mightie mind,

At first did bring me in my brother’s hate:

Yet in the end such fauour I did find,

That he to me, though I so most vnkind

Did oft times seeke the fall of his renowne,

Forgaue my fact, and gaue to me his crowne.

9.

With free consent of all this kingdome’s peeres,

Aduanc’d I was to all the royalties

Of my late brother dead, and thrice three yeeres

Inthron’d I was, before my haplesse eies

Were made beholders of those miseries,

Which in deep wanes of woe did England drowne,

And brought confusion to my state and crowne.

10.

In my first rise vnto the kingdome’s state,

False France did frowne, and stirred vp the fire

Conceal’d in ashes of our ancient hate,

The yong duke _Arthur_, as he did require,

Gainst vs rebell’d, and did with him conspire:

Both stretching forth their enuious hands, to crop

My new growen greene vpon our cedar’s top.

11.

On the swift whirlewinde of tempestuous warre,

Into Touraine and Aniou th’vtmost bound

Of this our empire, then inlarg’d so farre,

They furiously did breake, where what they found

In my defence, they laid it waste on ground:

Of which the duke proclaim’d himselfe the lord,

And sought t’obtaine it by the threatfull sword.

12.

Warre’s fearefull earthquake shaking more and more,

The state of Aniou, I did vnderstand,

How th’aged queene my mother _Elinor_,

Besieged was by _Arthur_ with strong hand,

Within a tower, which on that coast did stand:

Who sore opprest, and in her mind dismai’d,

In such distresse did call me to her aid.

13.

Incens’d to heare my nephewe’s vnkind deed

Gainst her now in her age, that gaue him breath:

As dutie bound me, on the wings of speed

I hastned to the rescue, to vnsheath

My angrie sword, whose edge did threaten death:

A filiall loue to rescue her from harmes,

Both day and night did make me march in armes.

14.

Before the foes of my approch did heare,

Such expedition thither I did make,

That at their backes my ensignes did appeare:

At which dismai’d, their siege they did forsake,

And most did vnto flight themselues betake:

Of whom were many slaine that stood in fight,

_Arthur_ vnhurt was taken in his flight.

15.

T’whom brought captiu’d before me, thus I spake:

“Cosin,” quoth I, “what madnesse was that same,

That moued you these warres to vndertake?

Why do you thus your royall friends defame,

In bearing armes in false king _Philip’s_ name?

Preferre you him in your esteeme more deare,

Then me, that am to you in blood so neare?

16.

For shame that French man’s company forsake,

Let not his counsell tempt you any more:

Turne vnto me, so shall I euer take

Your cause as mine, and you againe restore

Vnto my wonted fauour as before:”

With gentle speech thus did I him entreat:

But thus he made replie with many a threat.

17.